✯ Zianourry ⏯ OneShots ✯

Stay with me! ⏯ H.S.

The city streets buzzed with life as Harry and the rest of One Direction strolled through, their laughter blending with the sounds of traffic and chatter. They had just finished a late-night recording session, and exhaustion clung to them like a second skin. Despite the fatigue, their spirits were high, fuelled by the adrenaline of creating music together.

As they walked, Louis slung an arm around Harry's shoulders, pulling him into a playful headlock. "You alright there, Hazza?" he teased, his voice tinged with affection.

Harry chuckled, leaning into Louis's side. "I'm good, mate. Just ready to crash for the night."

The group continued down the dimly lit street, their conversation weaving in and out of topics ranging from music to childhood memories. But their lighthearted banter was soon interrupted by a sudden commotion up ahead.

"What's going on?" Liam asked, his brows furrowing in concern as they approached the source of the disturbance.

As they rounded the corner, they were met with a harrowing sight. A group of masked figures surrounded a lone figure, their voices harsh and demanding. Harry froze, his heart hammering in his chest as he recognized the fear in the stranger's eyes.

Without a second thought, he stepped forward, his voice firm. "Hey, leave him alone!"

The muggers turned their attention to Harry and his friends, their expressions twisted with malice. One of them, a burly man with a scar running across his cheek, stepped forward, his gaze cold and calculating.

"Looks like we've got ourselves some heroes, boys," he sneered, reaching for something concealed beneath his jacket.

Before anyone could react, chaos erupted. The muggers lunged forward, their fists flying as Harry and his friends fought back with everything they had. But the odds were against them, and soon they found themselves outnumbered and outmatched.

In the midst of the struggle, Harry felt a sharp pain erupt in his side as one of the muggers landed a brutal blow. He stumbled backward, his vision swimming as he fought to stay conscious.

"Harry!" Louis cried out, his voice thick with panic as he rushed to his friend's side.

But it was too late. The muggers had fled into the night, leaving Harry crumpled on the pavement, blood staining his clothes.

"Harry, mate, stay with me!" Louis pleaded, his hands shaking as he pressed them against Harry's wound.

Harry's breathing was laboured as he looked up at his friends, his eyes filled with pain and regret. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I should've been more careful."

"Don't talk like that, Harry," Niall said, his voice trembling as he knelt beside him. "You're gonna be okay. We'll get you help."

But even as his friends rallied around him, Harry couldn't shake the feeling of dread that settled in the pit of his stomach. He knew that this was just the beginning of a long and arduous journey, one that would test the bonds of friendship and love that held them together.

As sirens wailed in the distance, Harry closed his eyes, surrendering to the darkness that threatened to consume him.

Niall'a POV:

The sterile walls of the hospital corridor seemed to close in around us as we waited anxiously for news about Harry. Liam paced back and forth, his steps echoing off the linoleum floor. Louis sat hunched over in a plastic chair, tears streaming down his face in silent anguish. Zayn leaned against the wall, his gaze fixed on some distant point, lost in his own thoughts.

And then there was me, Niall, feeling the weight of panic pressing down on my chest like a leaden weight. I tried to control my breathing, but each inhale felt shallow, each exhale a struggle. My hands trembled as I clutched the armrest of my chair, trying to ground myself in the midst of the swirling chaos.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder, gentle and reassuring. I looked up to see Liam's concerned gaze, his blue eyes filled with empathy. "Niall, mate, you alright?" he asked softly.

I shook my head, unable to form words as my chest tightened with fear. Liam knelt down in front of me, his hands steady as he guided me through a series of deep breaths. "Just focus on your breathing, Niall," he said calmly. "Harry's gonna be okay. We're all here for him, yeah?"

I nodded, grateful for Liam's calming presence amidst the storm raging inside me. Slowly, my breathing began to steady, and I felt a sense of control return to me.

As we waited, a doctor emerged from the operating room, his expression grave. My heart skipped a beat as he approached us, his footsteps echoing in the tense silence.

"Are you the friends of Harry Styles?" he asked, his voice somber.

We all nodded, our throats tight with apprehension.

The doctor sighed, his shoulders sagging with weariness. "Harry's surgery went well, but he lost a lot of blood. He's stable for now, but he'll need time to recover."

Relief washed over me like a tidal wave, and I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. Liam clapped a hand on my shoulder, offering me a supportive smile. "See, Niall? I told you he'd be alright."

The doctor led us to Harry's room, and as we stepped inside, I felt a lump form in my throat at the sight of him lying pale and vulnerable on the hospital bed. Louis rushed forward, wrapping Harry in a tight embrace, while Liam and Zayn hovered nearby, their expressions a mix of concern and relief.

Harry looked up at us sheepishly, his green eyes shining with unshed tears. "I'm sorry, lads," he whispered hoarsely. "I didn't mean to worry you."

Louis shook his head, his voice choked with emotion. "Don't you dare apologize, Hazza. We were all worried sick about you."

I stepped forward, my own voice trembling with emotion. "Yeah, mate, we were all a mess without you. But you're gonna be okay now. We're here for you, no matter what."

As we gathered around Harry's bedside, our bond stronger than ever, I felt a sense of gratitude wash over me. In that moment, I knew that as long as we had each other, we could weather any storm that came our way.